The Night of the Rose
by ameerkatofficial
Summary: So my friend and I came up with a crack ship between William T. Spears, Rachel Phantomhive, and an OC who is William's brother named Oliver E. Spears, and one night my friend dared me to write a short diddly about them and I did...sinful stuff guys! Took an entire night but I did it! AU of William as a human and a teenager with his older brother Oliver and fiancée Rachel. Enjoy!
_**The Night of the Rose**_

"Is this really a good idea?" asked the younger, sitting at the edge of his bed, a soft pout upon him, but his grey eyes had the watery look of worry.

"Shut up," the older hissed, spraying the other in the face with cologne, "It's a learning opportunity for my _darling baby brother…_ "

William glared up at his brother, who paced feverishly about the bedroom, awaiting the clock to strike midnight, frustration building in each step. The clock read _11:58_.

The younger fell back onto the bed with a soft flutter of his lips, staring up at the gentle rose shade of the ceiling, the shade deeper by the soft candlelight, as his stomach twisted and turned within him like some writhing snake.

 _11:59_

He flipped over on his stomach then to watch Oliver, continuing on across the room like a clock's pendulum, silently wondering what the hell this woman had seen in him. Perhaps it was his lips, pretty and pink like Mother's, always turned up in a gentle smirk at the girls, which they'd all swoon for. Or his hair, that perfect shade of dark, chestnut brown, lovely and coiffed, while William's was straight and nearly pitch black.

 _12:01_

"Are you sure she's coming?"

"Shut your arse!"

"And what'll that help if my arse is shut?"

And how lovely he looked with his handsome jaw clenched, his perfect complexion slowly becoming splotchy and red, as if he had gained a dreadful rash on his cheeks.

"Hello, I'm here!" sang a voice like a sweet nightingale's, a soft knock pawing against the mahogany wood, "It's me, Rachel."

Oliver's dark eyes became slits as he glared at the door, though his complexion evened once again, as he came to his young brother to shove his head into the bed.

" _Coming!_ "

The door opened to an ethereal vision, pale as porcelain with softly rosed cheek, her hair seeming to be strands of spun gold, her gaze looking like shards of broken sky that The Lord had used to create her eyes, and that smile—'twas two petals pink that formed her lips.

"Hello, Ollie!" she gave a soft cheer as she pecked upon his pretty lips with hers, her thin nightgown swishing about her slender form, teasing his vision with sweet secrets, though William now averted his gaze to the rug.

"Hello, Rachel, darling. Come, come! Sit upon the bed with little Willy and me," he took her hand and led her as if into a dance, a giggle and a twirl between them, those two perfect, youthful lovers like a painting, even William could swoon at them.

But she had caught his eye, and for a moment, her bliss had wavered to…curiosity?

She sat before him, her nightdress flying up to expose her nearly to the knees, and now William thought he'd surely faint at the sight of those soft, pale limbs.

"Nice to meet you, William," she chirped, bringing his gaze up to meet hers in a moment of breathless delight, "I don't believe we've spoken much before now, but you're a _very_ handsome boy."

William's lips parted to respond, but only a soft sound like a mewl had left before he closed his lips, biting them back as he occupied himself with staring at the lacey hem of her nightgown.

"Don't talk to him too much, darling," Oliver rolled his eyes, crashing onto the bed beside them, "You might break him…"

His coiffed head laid in her lap as he grinned up at her chest, but she paid no attention to him, save for her svelte hand that combed through his hair, "It's alright if you're shy. My little sister is shy too…maybe you'd like her…" her lashes fluttered gently, like a fairy's wing, and the younger brother nearly smiled at her, even as his heart had begun to race.

"Oh, he won't be shy for long, Rachel dear!" the elder clicked his tongue, "No, he's going to be our _plaything_ for the night—" he reached out to suddenly grab his brother by the shirt-collar, "—aren't you, _Willy?"_

He rose then, however slowly, so that the two of them sat up face to face, his hot breath beating down upon poor William's face, causing the thin hairs on his cheeks to bristle, but he only grew closer with those menacing, dark eyes…

…just like Father's…

But Oliver didn't stop, and William felt his stomach begin to tight further, tighten into knots until he felt it, the sudden rush of warmth that shot into his spine, running down to his toes to the top of his head.

" _Mmmh—!_ "

But Oliver didn't pull away as he usually did, spitting out how it was a "joke", for William to stop being such a "girl". No, this was real as William was, his hands that gripped to the younger's chin, those pink and pretty lips that pressed into his as they slowly fell backward onto the bed. William protested with a muffled cry, but soon succumbed out of fear as he felt those hands reach beneath his nightshirt and grasp hold of him, a jolt of heat hitting his stomach.

In a frantic motion, William pulled his own head down, slamming it into the mattress with a hushed cry of "Oliver, please—!"

"Stiff as a rod! Well would you look at that, my love? My brother's queer."

William held back tears at his brother's triumphant grin, his grey eyes shining with them, chin wrinkling as his hands struggled to pull down his nightshirt, only to have it suddenly pulled away by the other.

"Have to admit, you're a rather decent size," Oliver climbed off the other, pulling up the nightshirt more fully, "What would you say, Rachel?"

"A bit bigger than _you_ , dear, don't you think?"

Oliver regained that splotchy look, his dark eyes aflame, and surely they could have set poor William aflame as well with that look, to which William cowered further into the mattress.

 _Slap!_

" _Ah!"_

"Shut your arse…"

This was precisely where the boy had been struck, though not a tear left him, and instead came a tingling of his cheeks, surely crimson by now as Oliver left him, leaving him in full view of his young betrothed.

"Make use of your lips, darling," the eldest instructed his lover, "and de-queer him for me?"

William laid back, staring up at the rose shade of the ceiling, deeper a shade now by candlelight, though surely it couldn't have been deeper than the shade of his face, his terribly countenance that his brother had marred with his pretty, pink lips.

"Hello…"

His heavy read rose to see that glorious sight, the golden-haired fairy whose porcelain complexion was now changed over to a faint peach as she smiled down at him with petal-lips, and he couldn't help but have the urge to reach up and take them into his own.

"Hello," he replied in the same whisper, his breath heavy and failing, his heart sure to burst. And perhaps it did when he saw her smile, heard that bell of a giggle grace his ears.

"Your brother said to _de-queer_ you, so I'll do just that, alright— _oh!_ " the smile suddenly dropped from her face, and he noticed then that his brother had disappeared just behind her now, the hem of her gown climbing.

"Rachel…?"

Her head dipped down before she could reply, and he suddenly felt why. He felt those lips, those soft lips like petals upon him, a wet, pink tongue, and his tears had at last sprung from his damned eyes as he laid his head back down and became completely still, " _Oh…_ "

They continued like this for a while, reality beginning to escape William, slip away between his fingers like sand as his breath built speed but lost depth, as the room seemed to swirl and concave around him, and all he heard was her gentle, breathy moans and his deeper, growling voice just behind, and perhaps he himself followed, though his own voice sounded foreign to his ears, even if he felt his own throat create it.

"He hasn't fainted, has he?"

"No…his eyes are still open…perhaps he's dead?"

" _Dead?!_ He better not be dead! Mum will kill me!"

William suddenly sat up to meet her smile, to meet his great sigh of relief, only to have his shirt-collar yanked at as he was forced forward.

"You know how to please a woman, Will?"

William didn't respond, only his face growing three shades paler as his eyes widened, before he was tossed aside, where he now regained his air.

"You're going to learn now. _Get over here!"_

He timidly approached to find a completely nude and ruddy Rachel Phantomhive lying across the bed, her chest rising and falling softly, shifting her breasts like gently breathing white hills.

"H-How…"

"Just get on her."

He obeyed without another word, albeit timidly as he held her clouded gaze, asking a silent permission which was granted with a twitch of her lip. He straddled her stomach then, though shifting the weight to his knees to not hurt her, his eyes drinking in the sight of her unblemished porcelain skin, wishing to touch her all over with his hands, though he couldn't bring himself to try, to even fantasize…

"Raise your arse up, Will, and suck on her breasts," the gruff voice instructed.

"Her _breasts_?!"

"Like a babe, yes. Just shut up and do it already!"

He looked back up to meet her gaze, warm and melting, as if the sky had begun to rain, though there was no sorrow in her eyes. Instead there was a twinkle through them, like a rainbow through the mist, and a soft huff left her as she shifted beneath him, her stomach hitting his heated flesh.

" _Will!_ "

"Alright, you prat!"

He knelt down and immediately buried his face between her breasts, kissing tenderly at the skin, gentle pecks at first, though they became greedy at her mewling and he found himself suckling upon her delicate skin.

But he was very aware of another warmth just behind him, the rhythmic, undulating movement, the soft, damp beat that kept in time with the girl's sharp gasps, followed by a low, guttural groan of that smooth, dark voice. What a happy pair these two made…

William also became aware now of a creeping presence drawing ever closer to him, until he, too, drew in a sudden breath, as he felt a moistness invade him, just in his rear. But he made no complaint of it, instead suckled harder upon her breasts as his own rear was guzzled down so ravenously.

" _Ah,_ _William…_ " 'twas a sensuous, private word, a wisp of a wind that could only be gathered by young William's ears. But it formed a lump in his throat that he swallowed down along with the sweat that collected upon her skin, along with his own spit that had accumulated, but he was so careful to not let teeth graze her to damage that beautiful skin, only wishing to inhale her, her lovely scent forever into his mind, like lilies.

But without warning came a sudden impalement, like a bullet driven into him. He couldn't help but give a scream into the room, but couldn't help but feel his spine arch, his cries turn into moans as he felt something unlike he ever had before, the form of two fingers pressed into him that drew from him such heat, such lewd noises that he could hardly contain, making him drool openly as he pushed himself back onto those thick fingers, his head thrown back in the height of absolute pleasure—

" _Oliver!"_

Both William and the girl seemed to cry out that cursed name almost simultaneously, and he felt his heat dripping, or running a river down upon her, trickling in white which he saw before his eyes, a flash of white, perhaps Heaven's dear light, come to save him from this blessed Hell.

"Damn…already, Willy?"

He looked down and found dear Rachel too overcome with bliss to speak, her eyes dazed and unfocused as high-pitched gasps flew from her heaving chest. Could she see him, see William upon her?

But his question couldn't be answered, for he was pulled away once again.

"Lick it out of her, you're next," ordered that deep voice, growing ever more crude by the moment as he gave another harsh strike to William's bottom, nearly sending him toppling forward.

The younger soon regained himself, shifting downward to her own dripping heat, the sight, the smell hypnotising to him, seeming nearly holy as he tentatively peaked out his tongue.

The initial taste was bitter and crude, stinging his mouth, but he didn't stop himself, his tongue delving in deeper, deeper still and he felt at last as if he were alone, alone with a beautiful woman named Rachel, whom he would happily make love to in the gentlest way she deserved. He thought of this as he ingested his own kin from within his kin's bride, his lips upon her as a seal as he consumed her, peals of shrieks like church bells pouring from her divine lips.

"William… _please_ …" she begged at long last, "…just put it in…"

And he did so without protest, without question or delay, sinking into her creamy flesh, grasping her thighs as he pushed in, pushed in again, not wishing this moment to end.

But when he looked up to wonder at why her breaths had ceased, the sight sank his heart, the sight of his handsome brother kissing and groping at her with his thick hands, at her bruised breasts, the very touch causing her to tremble as she donned an expression of complete serenity, her lover embracing her lips, his brother embracing her hips.

His thrusts became angry then, even maddened as he held back a sob, until his spine arched and he gave a great shout, animalistic in nature, surely permeating the papered walls.

And though he was filled with bliss, a deep shame was instilled into him as he caught the sight of his brother smiling wickedly at him.

"There's a fine lad," he chuckled darkly, cupping Rachel's breast like a pear, "Now that you've had your fun, see what you've done here! You've _hurt_ her, Will!"

Within his hand was the evidence, he chest bruised terribly, purple blooms staining the white porcelain. But even then along her neck were the same marks that were certainly not of Will's craft. He eyed them suspiciously before making the mistake of opening his mouth.

"Haven't you done the same to her neck, Oliver—"

" _That's not the point!_ " the brunette roared, though suddenly a softer look came about him as he looked upon his sweetheart, a gentle pout to his pretty, pink lips.

"What do you think we should do? Punish him for what he did to you?"

Sweat beaded William's brow as he looked to the girl in desperation, hoping that she'd somehow end the madness, perhaps run away with William instead, perhaps to Switzerland, to the mountains where they could live happily for eternity.

But William instead watched in horror as the girl offered him a coy smile and a slow, deliberate nod.

"That's what I thought…" the wicked boy grinned as he shifted over to his younger brother, a gentle hand grasping the other's soft cheek, pulling the limp, nearly lifeless lad in for another long kiss.

"Lie down, Will…" he instructed once again, however sweetly this time, watching him as the boy laid down into the sheets, about to retch out his stomach. But he obeyed.

"Rachel, my love," Oliver sang to his future bride, "You can clean yourself out on him if you'd like."

"I'd be delighted!"

Before William could think upon what that meant, he suddenly felt that impaling force drive into him once more, only this time greater, heftier than before. It drove into him gradually, but every inch was felt just the same, each causing a tremble to come over his already sensitive skin, jolting his body awake, alive, until he felt the hilt against his hip, the full force of it, was it in his stomach by now? He hadn't a clue! Only that he was suddenly drooling, suddenly moaning and writhing which each thrust, just as Rachel had. What an unholy union this was! And yet how wonderful it felt, to be full, to be pushed in, to have his own soul depart from him so well, leaking from his lips.

He hardly noticed the sudden change from light to dark, only noticed the change in the air, suddenly thick, suddenly creamy, until the bitter taste made him realise that Rachel had joined in on this brotherly bliss. He licked aggressively, though his heart felt empty. And still he drooled into her, moaning deep inside of her whilst she let them pour out from past her lips.

And then there was a rush, but it all came so fast. It was the rush of her, her sweet taste pouring into his mouth, which he consumed wholly. There was a rush of Oliver filling him with that dripping heat, that cream that burned within him, leaking out as that fullness was pulled out of him as well. But he felt at once drowned and on fire, his body coming to a boil, his limbs uncontrollable. He was screaming.

"Surely he's dead now," chirped one sweet voice, "His eyes are empty."

"But he's breathing," growled another, "Maybe he just couldn't handle my girth."

William lay there like that for a long time, and surely the maid would face the truest Hell when she came to change the sheets in the morning.


End file.
